


i can smell your scent for miles

by StrangeHormones



Category: Black Christmas (1974)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24162388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeHormones/pseuds/StrangeHormones
Summary: billy lenz x reader | what would you do if the fantasy was suddenly reality?
Relationships: Billy Lenz/Reader, Billy Lenz/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95





	i can smell your scent for miles

Laundry day is both their favorite day for wildly different reasons. You enjoyed the mere act of it all, spending all day alone, listening to music while you washed, folded, and repeated. Stripping and remaking the bed was always a daunting task that’s only comfort came from the knowledge it would soon be a perfectly made bed with laundered linens, putting it at its peak of comfort. You would climb into it at the end of the day, showered and clean, with a fresh pajama shirt and panties. It was a little slice of perfection that seemed to remain untouched in the chaos that was their sorority house. At least, you had thought.

At least until the phone had rings. You knew deep down inside it was him. The Moaner. Why would he leave these few moments untouched? Why had you expected it at all might be the better question? You swallow hard, shaking hand holding the front of your robe closed tightly, the other is sweaty and forces you to keep a firm while you lifted it from the cradle. You will any sort of greeting to your lips but the fact you can’t manage it doesn’t matter one way or the other.

“Clean piggy,” he oinked over and over till you thought he might never stop, “Squeaky clean,” it’s coming, you know it. After the gasping and slurping sounds, next would come the vulgar words, “Did you clean that piggy cunt for me?” the jolt, straight down to where it shouldn’t be, “Till I make it sloppy and wet,” it’s wrong to be excited. 

You slam the phone down, hard. Trying to catch your breath as if somehow you could will the arousal away. Three more deep breaths and you decided it was time to move forward, despite the heat throbbing between your thighs. You finish your nighttime routine pretending the call hadn’t happened. Hair brushed, skin moisturized, face washed, teeth clean. It was when you were pulling back the blankets, comfortable in your sleep shirt, and panties when a thought occurred to you.

How did he know?

It’s enough to stop you in your tracks, the word coincidence bubbling in your brain but it’s bullshit. He was there, sometime, somehow, inside or out, he had been there. It scares you, but not enough, rationalizing he’d been peeping in the window not too long before. That’s what it must’ve been. That thought too sends heat pooling beneath your silky underwear, somehow worse than before. And you know you shouldn’t, the second you do it’s real. You’ll be forced to admit the truth.

He turns you on.

He does. It’s that wicked part of you, the part that makes you bite your thumb when the other girls are around, holding up the phone for everyone to listen in. Pretending to look concerned and truthfully a million miles away. You fall back on the bed, eyes fluttering closed, remembering the grossly lustful snippets of his mad ramblings. The call you’d taken the day before, where the voices and stories seemed to change so little, still stuck in your mind. The words meant to shock, they had, just no doubt not in the way he had intended.

You drag the shirt slowly up your body. Piggy. Pretty piggy. Your nipples pucker in a mixture of arousal and the coolness of the air suddenly against them, scrunching the fabric up to have free use of your hands. Lick it. I want to lick it. With no patience you take both nipples between a thumb and curled forefinger, groaning at the sensation. Lick your pink cunt. 

“Do you?” the words tumble out, he can’t hear you, but it adds to it.

Almost like he can. Let me lick it, you pinch harder, tugging at them just a bit. Lick you till you scream. One hand abandons its task to slide beneath the elastic of your bottoms. Would you like that? Feeling the moisture that’s already gathered around your lower lips. Would you, piggy?

“Yes,” what you should’ve said instead of hanging up the phone echoes in the silent room. 

There would be more tailored thoughts running through your mind, instead of edits made as her gently dipped your fingers into your wetness. Would have talked about his thick, juicy cock? He seemed to like that. You did too, you’d known it before but the way your body quivers and your fingers hone straight in on your clit at the thought prove it. 

“Pretty piggy,” it’s not as clear as your memories but somehow closer, it makes your toes curl, “Touch your clitty for, Billy,” you lose yourself in the touch and the orders of your fantasy, “Wet, wet, sopping wet.”

You moan again, tugging hard enough to hurt just right as you worked at your little clitty with slow, circular movements. Your body jolts at the ongoing motion, already knowing it won’t be enough. The sudden thumping sound should terrify you, it would any of your sisters, but you’re too far gone in the fantasy. If ever Billy, who must be the ‘rat’ that lived in the attic, wanted you he had found the perfect moment. No part of you prepared to think about consequences let alone disagree with his lecherous desires.

“She wants me,” your door creaks open, “Wants my cock inside her?” the scrape of shoes along carpet followed by the sound of the door slamming, “Is she tight?” it only occurs to you now how little you can see, “Will it hurt?” but your fingers never stop, “Is that what you want piggy?” her back arches at the familiar squealing sounds that follow after, “Want Billy to tear you open?” You’re sure he can see you even, “I can smell you,” he’s approaching quickly, “Let me taste your cunt.”

There’s a sudden weight on you, the smell of dry rot and dust in the air not distracting from the frame on top of you. Warm. Strong. The only fear left is wrapped in excitement, no idea what he’ll do next, but aching for it. His fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling them from their tasks and pushing them into the bed. Tomorrow there will be bruises, today it makes you buck fruitlessly against his form.

“Don’t fight,” the wet tip of his tongue tracing your neck, drool splattering and slipping down to your freshly cleaned pillow, “Billy wants to keep,” continuing his journey downward, “Don’t make me bad.”

You don’t know what to say but there’s no opportunity for a response, his teeth clamping down on your nipple suddenly and harshly making you squeal. He grins against you, rolling the nub between his teeth, and quickly doing the same to the other. He’s far too pleased by your reactions, you’re happy to give him them as long as he doesn’t stop.

“Squeal, squeal,” he mutters over and over, nails digging into your flesh as his fingers scrabbled along the edge of your panties, “Squeal.”

You do when he bites down even harder, you can feel tears prickle in your eyes as he abuses the tender flesh for his own amusement. You’re sure your panties must be soaked now not that you’ll ever know. The ripping sound echoes much like your squeal had, never before have you been so thankful for your sisters loves lives and the long weekend. Hot globs of spit fall onto your stomach audibly as he moves downward to explore your cunt he’s always talking so much about. His grip is just as rough with your thighs as it had been your wrists, it leaves no room for arguing, it’s why your hands are currently fisted in the blankets at your side and not his hair.

“Pretty pussy,” a long wet lick forcing his tongue halfway between her lips, “Tastes good,” his second swipe parts them fully and your moan is a full-bodied noise that briefly stops him, “Again!”

He has no patience, burying his face between her legs with no real idea of what he was doing. The voracity of his actions and the debauchery of it all more than made up for it. He slurps, licks, and sucks every inch, tongue swirling wildly in your hole before disappearing to some nook he’d decided more important. There’s no flow, more like a wild animal trying to devour you from the bottom up. But you can feel your orgasm approaching all the same. His pants and indiscernible grumbles mixed so perfectly with the force he pressed your thighs back.

“Eat you every night for dessert,” his nose nudge your clit over and over as he lapped at your sopping hole, “Billy’s!”

Whether it's the way he shouted or slammed his tongue as far into as he could, running his tongue around your walls as if he could reach all of it is what finished you off. Fighting happily against his grip if it meant his nails dug into has it all came crashing down on you. Shrieking and tossing your head side to side, knuckles white in the sheet which only seems to urge him on. He doesn’t stop. You want more than what he’s giving you but it’s not for now. He has a different plan it seems. There’s the unmistakable slap of his cock in his hand, almost as loud as the noises that vibrated from your core out. You're quickly rising to a second peak when he rips away, giggling and slapping his lips together. 

Warm and sticky his cum flies across your torso, from belly button to the edge of your pushed up shirt, “Billy’s,” he says again, some answer for the cooling semen on your body.

As quickly as he appeared he was gone, slipping out a slightly cracked door and hiding himself from view once more. All you could do was lay there, a mess of spit, cum, and provocative shame. Nothing like that had ever crossed your mind and you’re sure the next time would be just the same. And, hopefully, just as surprising.

**Author's Note:**

> youtastelikesugar.tumblr.com, 18+ content


End file.
